what do i want?

you want to savor it like a last kiss but instead save the implication of both the ask and the answer for some other time, some time when you’re not so wrapped up working to meet the expectations of what others want from you. decade after decade goes by and they stop asking, concerned only to keep the machine that fulfills temporal wants filled with gaseous fuel, too preoccupied with self to offer the solid kind. i don’t speak my answer lest it be cursed a world that has no ears. i just warble about, angry in ebbs and flows that dissipate only long enough to realize i have no right to be angry at anything just because it doesn’t show up the way i’d like before swelling once more at the lack of power i have to fulfill anything, especially wishes that never get spoken.

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